


Rub

by halotolerant



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Guns, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halotolerant/pseuds/halotolerant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray watches Bodie clean his gun</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rub

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saintvic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintvic/gifts).



> For saintvic who prompted Bodie/Doyle and 'guns'

Ray watches Bodie clean his gun.

Bodie has the case open on the hotel bed; he’s laid down a bit of newspaper to protect the quilt with its horrible pattern of cows jumping crescent moons. He’s perching on the bed too; there aren’t any chairs, it’s a basic place, the kind where the register is full of Smiths and no one has ever heard or seen anything. The kind of place you go to ground in.

“Cowley’ll sort it out,” Bodie says, after they’ve been silent a while, both watching Bodie’s hands on Bodie’s gun, hypnotic rub of oil and rag on metal.

“Yeah, maybe.” Ray speaks more to have spoken than anything. He’s sitting perhaps a foot away on his own hideous bed; it’s a basic place, there’s a toilet down the hall and one wardrobe, Ray’s bed has an odd, old stain on the sheets and when they checked in the woman at the desk stopped knitting long enough to raise an eyebrow at them and say, “It’s a twin room, duck, but not very big, some folks just push ‘em together.”

Suddenly needing to move, Ray goes to look out of the tiny window. It’s dark outside, about to be their third night away from the fold. 

“Even if they caught us,” Bodie says – and it’s all been said before, by both of them, but if they stop talking about it they’ll have to move to another topic – “Even if they caught us, they’d just lock us up. Cowley’ll track down the General and the driver and get the proof of what really happened. Why on earth would we shoot a diplomatic aide?”

“Yeah.” Ray sinks to the bed again. Three nights, three days in a hotel room with Bodie, waiting for the news to stop putting out their descriptions, for the truth to come out.

Time reveals many things. 

Three nights, three days, too many hands of poker, gin rummy, whist, you name it. Too many conversations of the kind they can usually finish on a whim; you and me, my life, your life, dreams and visions, the future. 

Ray watches Bodie clean his gun, broad hands gentle on the snub metal, oily glide, over and over, smooth. 

Ray shivers, lying back on the bed, staring at the flock wallpaper and still seeing Bodie’s finger tips. There’s a smell of gun oil in the air, and three nights and three days of frustration, boredom, pent up energy.

“Bodie...” Ray says, softly, turning his head on the pillow.

Bodie's hands stop moving. And then they start it up again, the smooth oil glide, but now the gun's in its case on the other bed, glinting deadly and watching them.


End file.
